


three seconds

by lester_sheehan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Camelot, Dark Swan Arc, F/F, Gen, Other, Swan Queen - Freeform, dark!swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lester_sheehan/pseuds/lester_sheehan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events leading up to their return to Storybrooke, or: what really happened in Camelot. </p>
<p>Swan Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three seconds

_“Emma, is your heart truly ready to be free?”_

It was times like these when Emma desired the comfort, and perpetual emptiness, of sleep, where she could escape her waking demons and for just a few hours, pretend that things were as they’d always been. But, as she had been forced to learn, sometimes you must just live with them.

Merlin’s words swim through her mind, setting up home; they drill into her skull, leaving fractures and holes and empty pits. She’d dismissed his comment at first, said that tomorrow they’d try. But tomorrow is quickly approaching, and she’s never felt such unease.

She isn’t sure what it is that makes her so anxious, and she isn’t sure why his words make her feel like she's drowning, but something isn't right, and deep down, she knows that it will fail. That her parents will turn up disappointed, and the darkness will remain, everlasting. 

She lies there all night, thinking about the endless possibilities, of all the things that could go wrong, and when morning comes, and the first slither of light rises up from beneath the distant hills, her stomach lurches. She stands from her bed, weary and depleted, and sets out to meet Merlin in the great hall. 

Giving a small smile, she finds her place next to him, refusing to look anyone in the eyes. It’s a small gathering; considering the extremity of the task, they’d wanted to keep it a private affair. She’s glad, for should it fail, an audience would be more than mortifying. It’s bad enough, she decides, in front of those she truly cares for. She’s not sure she could handle widespread dissatisfaction. 

“Let’s do this,” Emma says, eyebrows raised and- if only to keep them from shaking- hands locked together in front of her. 

David clasps a comforting hand on her back and squeezes. “You ready?”

She smiles tersely, forcing herself to nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Merlin moves to stand before her, meets her gaze. Silently, he raises his arms, sparks gathering like tadpoles on his fingers. In one swift motion, a jolt extends towards Emma’s heart- she can feel the way it takes a hold, wraps tightly around her core- and her skin feels ablaze. But then she’s coughing, as though the darkness has wormed its way into her throat, and she finds it hard to talk, to hear, to breathe. 

“Should this be happening?” Mary Margaret says, and Regina’s frown deepens, arms wrapped around her chest. She doesn’t give a reply. 

There’s a sudden burst of sound and then Emma’s gripping her knees, panting heavily. “Did it work?” she says, glancing up, eyebrows drawn.

Merlin’s expression doesn’t hide much. “No,” he says. “No, I’m afraid it didn’t.” His voice is gentle, but it doesn’t soften the news. 

“Well, why not?” Regina’s walking towards them now, arms at her sides. She flings a hand in Emma’s direction. “Clearly, she’s ready for it to be gone.” Her stare fixates on Merlin, like a predator waiting for its prey. “You must have done it wrong.”

In a state of disbelief, Merlin’s gaze shifts to David; he shrugs, used to it. “There was nothing wrong with my method,” he states, taking a step back. With a sigh, he directs the next sentence to Emma. “Perhaps you should think about admitting something to yourself- however difficult that may prove to be.”

“Admit _what?”_ Emma says, but Merlin’s gone before the last word can leave her lips. 

“I guess that answers that,” Regina says, earning a glower from Snow. “Your time is ticking, Swan.”

Emma’s eyes glimmer with rage, voice no more than a hiss. “I know.” 

Regina almost appears taken aback, but her face sets quickly. “Then do something about it.” Despite the harshness of her words, the delivery is surprisingly tender. 

With one sad glance in Regina’s direction, Emma trails out of the room: footsteps heavy, feet slow.

*

“I thought I’d find you out here.” The noise doesn’t faze her; she’d heard Regina coming from a distance. The perks of being all-powerful, she supposes.

They’re standing at the edge of the castle wall, where they’d freed Merlin only a short time ago. Regina’s cape is wrapped tight around her shoulders, a barrier against the cool night air, as she hovers at Emma’s side. “We’ll find a way to make it work,” she says, but Emma’s stare doesn’t move from the darkened grounds, doesn't stop following the maze of trees.

She’s counted three hundred and sixty one so far. 

“Do you remember when we met?” Emma says, breaking the silence, and Regina abruptly turns to face her. She opens her mouth to speak, but Emma’s faster. “I met you first, of course. In a way.” She fiddles with the edges of her gown. “You were still the Queen back then, and I have to say Regina, I much prefer your sensible pantsuits.”

Regina scoffs, rolling her eyes. (The exclusion of ‘Evil’ doesn’t go amiss.) “Of course. Your little trip with the pirate.”

A smile begins to grow on Emma’s face as she says, “You almost killed me.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“No. I suppose it wouldn’t,” Emma whispers, turning her back on the woodland. 

The moon is brighter in Camelot, the only competitor being the flickering candlelight of castle chambers, and Emma almost glows beneath it. Regina wonders whether it’s always been like this. Whether she’s always looked so… “What did Merlin mean?” she says. Emma frowns. “Well, there must be something you’re not admitting, so what is it?” There’s a pause and then, “Honestly, Emma, it can’t be worse than things I’ve done, so you may as well just tell m-”

She’s cut off by Emma’s lips pressed against hers. For a full three seconds, Regina can’t move, is pulled by the feel of Emma’s mouth and the call of her heart and the fact that God, she never realised just how much she wanted this. 

But then those three seconds are up, and suddenly the rest of the world comes into view. She pulls back.

“Emma-” she starts to say, voice wavering. The distance between them increases, Emma slowly drawing away. Regina’s head tilts slightly as she croaks, “Wai-” But it’s too late. 

And standing alone in the courtyard- mouth parted, tears beginning to pool in her eyes- Regina realises that she may have just made her biggest mistake yet. One that would, inevitably, alter all. 

*

“Regina!” Snow’s rushing towards her, Charming close behind. “Have you seen Emma?”

Placing the cup in her hand down, Regina stares at them blankly. “Why would I have seen her?”

David stops, motions vaguely in her direction. “No one’s heard from her all day, and well, we just assumed-”

“Assumed what?” 

His eyes narrow slightly. “Not to worry. This is clearly too much of a bother for you.” He takes a step back. “We’ll try elsewhere.”

As he turns to leave, Regina looks to the side, sighs and says, “David, wait.” They stare at her expectantly. “I don’t know where she is. It was midnight when I last spoke to her. Outside, where Merlin used to be.”

Snow bustles closer, face a mix of wonder and fear. “Did anything happen?”

Regina raises her eyebrows. “Such as?”

“Did you two argue, did you-?”

“Nothing happened,” she says bluntly, pushing back her chair. She stands and brushes past them, hands shaking at her sides. 

They never do find Emma.

*

Somewhere deep within the castle, entrance hidden by a cloaking spell, Emma peers into a vile. Her eyes are hard and her face is set; she’s so close to being gone. How could she have been so _stupid?_

She’d set her heart free, but in doing so, she'd only tightened the lock. She couldn’t blame Regina for what she didn’t feel. 

A solitary tear slips from her eye as she holds a small bottle out before her. Inside, barely visible, is one of Regina’s own. Emma’s fingers shake lightly as she pours it into the flask, watching as the colours merge, creating a dark, wispy potion. Fumes rise from it in tendrils, like fingers reaching out to grasp her. With one final exhale of breath, she closes her eyes and mumbles softly. 

She wants this to be gone.

She wants this to be forgotten.

And so it is.


End file.
